India Is Dusty

India is dusty.

That’s a bit of an understatement.

India is dirty and crowded and dusty and desperate.

I haven’t yet found a way to explore India with my heart intact. I feel exhausted and raw at the end of each day here. I feel embarrassed by my fair skin and sensitivity. The poverty and human struggle is constant and all-pervasive and stunning. At times, the images of India are overwhelming, and too much for the human eye, soul, and heart to bear.

The eyes seek oases on which to rest.

Against the dull background of India, where every surface is covered with uniform layers of dust, bright colors seem cartoonish. They seem to have a life of their own, and dance in my vision as does a mirage on the horizon to a parched traveler.

Heaping piles of fragrant flowers are strung into garlands to adorn cows that sit contentedly in the middle of crowded streets and lumber through train stations.

The whisper of bright sarees conceal belled ankles, flashing smiles, and dark hair glowing with henna.

Shop doorways are curtained with textiles in glowing hues, patterns highlighted with sequins and fine embroidery.

Oases for the eyes and soul.